Stories

It's an odd feeling,
Not being sure of where you fit.
Surrounded by people
Who all know their place;
Who all talk and laugh
And share stories about the times they've had.

I've got some stories to share,
But who'd listen?
I'm not one of them,
I'm not part of their stories,
They're not part of mine.

I'll keep my stories
To myself, and I won't try
To involve myself in theirs.

We're making new stories
All the time, and I'll never be
Completely sure of where
I fit, but I've stopped looking
For my place. Its not important.

As long as I'm there,
I can make myself a part.
Everyone has a story about me, now.
And I say there's no such thing
As bad publicity.